


Head Over Heels - Part Three

by withoutaplease



Series: Head Over Heels [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 10:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutaplease/pseuds/withoutaplease
Summary: Reader learns the last of Billy’s secrets, but it’s the one she’s keeping that will change everything.





	Head Over Heels - Part Three

You woke to the sound of your own moaning, a low, sweet hum in the back of your throat. Your bedroom was hazy with the first of the morning light creeping into the window. You stretched lightly, and giggled at the tickle of soft curls against the insides of your thighs. “Morning, baby,” Billy murmured from beneath the sheet, rough fingertips gently urging your legs apart. 

“Mmm,” you sighed, in answer. He dipped his head, and his tongue felt like velvet. You braced one hand against your headboard, laced the other down into his hair, and closed your eyes again.

When your shuddering subsided into occasional tremors, he crawled up on top of you, grinning. “How was that?” he asked, licking his lips and running a hand through the halo of fuzz that had become of his curls.

“You couldn’t tell?” you teased. He cut you off with a slow, salty kiss. 

“I like to hear you say it.”

You smiled and brushed a bit of the shine off his chin with your thumb. “I saw the face of God,” you said.

“All right, you don’t have to make fun of me.”

You nuzzled the tip of his nose. “Who’s making fun?” He kissed you again.

“What time is it?“ you asked when he pulled back.

“Not time to worry about it,” he replied, reaching over to where your alarm clock sat on your nightstand and turning it face down. He shifted his hips, pressing his erection into your thigh.

You giggled. “Morning wood?”

“Morning, noon, and night,” he agreed, “since the day I met you.” You glanced hesitantly toward the clock. “There’s time,” he assured you. 

“Never enough,” you countered, rolling him onto his back and grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer. Then you straddled his hips and settled down into a sweet, familiar rhythm. He stared up at you while you moved, swollen lips parted, breath coming in quiet gasps. You willed the moment to last forever. The alarm went off.

“Don’t move,” he murmured, grabbing you around the waist with one arm and holding you firmly against him, so you couldn’t if you’d wanted to. He reached blindly with the other arm, feeling around until he found the clock and turned it off. You held your breath and held stock-still, listening. A minute went by without any sound from the rest of the house. 

“You said we had time,” you complained, trying, and failing, to wriggle away. 

“I lied,” he said, grinning up at you as you glared. He let go of your waist and batted his eyelashes. “Five more minutes?”

“Make it ten,” you countered, and ground down hard enough onto him that it made him grunt.

“I don’t make promises I can’t kee …” he started. You ground down again, faster, and again, and his chatter dissolved into gasps and groans and whispered, _fuck, baby’s_ as you watched him come apart beneath you. He didn’t last ten minutes.

You checked the coast was clear before you waved him out the back door with a kiss and a promise to be ready for work in 45 minutes, so when you turned back to see your mom padding into the kitchen in slippers and her bathrobe, you jumped. 

“Aren’t you going to be late for work?” she asked casually, as she started a pot of coffee.

“Um,” you replied, frozen. “I should be fine. Billy’s driving me.”

“Right,” she said. “He can use the front door, you know. You’re both adults.”

You felt your face redden. “Have you known this whole time?”

She smiled. “I was eighteen once too, you know.”

“Does Dad know?”

“Let me worry about your father,” she said. You walked sheepishly back to the stairs. “Honey,” she said, before you started the climb, “have you told Billy yet?”

You sighed and shook your head. “I can’t,” you admitted.

She nodded, and put a sympathetic hand on your arm. “You know it’s not going to get any easier if you wait.” she said.

“I know,” you agreed, a fresh wave of guilt washing over you. _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted … _ “I’m working on it.” 

She nodded and kissed your forehead sympathetically. “Cup of coffee?“ she offered.

You shook your head and started up the stairs again. "I’m out of time.”

*****

You slept like crap that night, waking every hour on the hour and sweating through your sheets, but by morning, you’d made up your mind. It took until 11:00 to psych yourself up to dial his number, and when you did, the line was busy. It was busy at 11:30, 12:00, and 12:30, too. By 1:00, you couldn’t stand it any longer, and borrowed the Olds to drive down to Cherry Lane. You rehearsed the whole way, but by the time you pulled up and saw the Camaro in the driveway, you still had no idea what to say. You sighed and stepped out of the car.

You were about halfway up the walk to the front door, when you heard yelling and a sound like furniture breaking coming from the house. You froze, there was a shout, and then Billy flew out of the front door, holding his hand to his bloody nose. You ran up to him, horrified.

“Jesus, Billy,” you swore, as he pulled his hand away and a fresh gout of blood ran out.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled, startling you. “Who told you to come here?”

“Billy, your nose,” you said, snapping into lifeguard mode and reaching up to put pressure on the bleeding.

He pushed your hand away, and shoved past you. “I got it,“ he snapped. "Go home.” You grabbed his arm, and he shrugged you off. "I said go home!” he shouted. He jumped in the car and backed out whiplash-fast, leaving you trembling in the middle of his yard. You caught motion out of the corner of your eye, and glanced over at the house. His sister, Max, was watching, stricken, through the window. You shared a helpless look before she disappeared inside.

You got back in the Olds and went home. 

You spent the next six endless hours before Billy’s reappearance crawling up and down your bedroom walls, sick with worry and sick with indecision and just _sick_. You practically sprinted when he knocked on the front door, red-eyed and smelling of whiskey.

“Hey, baby,” he said, grinning, when you opened it. You ignored that and checked out his nose, bruised and swollen, but not broken. “Wanna come for a drive?”

“You’re driving right now? How much have you had to drink?”

“Not that much,” he said irritably.

You sighed. “Come in, I’ll get you some water.” He grumbled, but he came. You sat him down in the living room, and glared down expectantly as you handed him a glass. 

“What?” he said.

“You’re just going to ignore what happened?”

“That’s what I usually do,” he said, before taking a long gulp of water and handing you back the glass. “Just come for a drive. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I do,” you said.

He chewed his lip. “Fine,” he said, unhappily. “Go ahead.”

You sighed. Where to start? “Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “I guess so. It’s not the first time I’ve been popped in the nose.”

You sat down next to him. “Does it happen a lot?”

“Not as often as it used to, now that I’m bigger than him,” he said.

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“Nobody did shit about it when I was a kid, ” he said. “What are they going to do now that I’m 18?”

“Well, why don’t you leave?”

He chuckled. “I make five bucks an hour,” he said. “Maybe once I get my diploma, find a better job …” He shook his head. “Even then, where would I go? I’ve only got one good thing going for me, and you’re right here.” 

Just at that moment, you remembered the reason you’d driven out to Billy’s house in the first place, and your stomach dropped. “Fuck,” you muttered. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

You struggled to find the nerve. “You’re not gonna like it.”

He frowned. “I already don’t like it,” he said. “What?

“Billy …” you started, trailing off, fixing your gaze on a piece of lint on the carpet.

He lifted your chin to look you in the eye. “Tell me.”

You took a deep, watery breath. “I got a letter a couple weeks ago. I got in off the waitlist at my first choice school. I’m moving.” 

He blinked, and let go of your face. “When?” he asked, quietly.

“End of the month,” you said, looking away again.

“And you’ve known for a couple of _weeks?_” he asked, voice rising.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“So you just _didn’t?_” He shook his head, and laughed harshly. “Of course,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Why did I think you were any different?”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “It’s not like I planned this.” 

He laughed some more. “Oh, well, as long as you’re sorry, that fixes everything!” He stood up.

“Billy,” you pleaded. “Don’t be like this.”

He shook his head. “You played me. You wasted my time. Unbelievable,” he said, starting for the door. 

You lunged and grabbed his arm. “It’s not like that,” you blurted. “I love you.”

He stopped, shook your hand away, and turned to face you again. His stare turned your blood to icewater. “I don’t even know what that means,” he said, and walked out.

“How much of that did you hear?” you asked, heart racing, just barely holding your tears back, as your mom stepped softly out from the hallway.

“Enough,” she said, embracing you. You let go in a wracking sob. She stroked your hair. “Maybe he’ll come back,” she said.

He didn’t.

*****

“So, that’s why I have to hand in my resignation early,” you lied, trying to look contrite. Mr. Tanner eyed you.

“Advance reading,” he repeated, skeptically.

You nodded apologetically. “If I don’t get started now, I’m never gonna make it.”

“Right,” he sighed heavily. “Well, I can’t afford to lose you, but I guess I can’t stop you.”

“Can I use you as a reference?” you asked, pushing your luck.

Another, heavier sigh. “Yes, you may. Good luck with your studies. Leave your keys behind the desk.”

“Thank you, Mr Tanner,” you said, summoning up a smile. The phone on his desk rang, and he waved you out. As the office door closed behind you, you let out a sigh of relief.

You headed back to the locker room, for the last time, to change. Ashley met you in the short hallway.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Okay,” you said. “I think he was pissed though.”

“What’s he gonna do? Fire you?”

You chuckled. “No, I guess not.”

She hugged you. “You’re doing the right thing,” she said. “This job isn’t worth it, and neither is Billy Hargrove. Bigger and better things, okay?”

You nodded, fighting tears. “Okay.” She smiled reassuringly, and continued on her way to the front.

You paused at the big picture window, telling yourself not to look, and going ahead and looking anyway. You were pained, but not at all surprised to see Billy sitting up in the lifeguard’s chair, peering over his aviators at a blonde in a pink bikini, flashing a grin. You blinked, and a matching pair of tears spilled over. Watching Billy flirt with everything on legs was bad enough, but being near him while he acted like you didn’t exist was unbearable. You’d lasted two whole shifts before throwing in the towel this morning. You turned away with a sigh.

Heather came into the locker room as you were throwing the last of your junk into your backpack. “Oh, this is too funny,” she said, coming up behind you. You slammed the door.

“What’s that?” you asked, turning to face her.

“That you’re quitting,” she said, smiling smugly. “You do know why Stephanie quit, right?”

You shook your head, in no mood. “I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“Billy fucked and chucked her, too!” she said. She smiled gleefully.

You were concentrating so hard on pushing back another pair of tears that you didn’t notice the pack of dripping 11th graders pouring into the locker room from the pool deck. 

“Go blow a cactus, Heather,” you said, marching past her. A gasp erupted, followed by a peal of laughter. One girl gave you a high five. 

You smiled, just a little, as you left.

*****

When you first stepped outside on the morning of the big move, the breeze had turned cool and there was a thin sheet of cloud across the blue of the sky. It suited your mood, that slightly dim, slightly off space of transition between summer and fall, between your old life and a new one. You took a deep breath, and even the smell of the air was different. You reached back inside to grab your jacket, and started down the steps to open the back of the Oldsmobile.

_Your_ Oldsmobile. Your folks had taken you out to a fancy dinner at Enzo’s two nights ago, to celebrate, and over the tiramisu, Dad handed you the keys once and for all. Mom said he just wanted an excuse to buy himself a new car, but you could see the pride shining in her eyes. You tried to feel it, too. You tried to look forward, but your mind was stuck on everything you were leaving behind. You went in for the first of a dozen boxes, and took your sweet time bringing it out to the trunk.

You were loading up box number four when Ashley pulled up in her mother’s Station Wagon. She had a tray of paper cups from Scoops Ahoy in one hand, and a little gift bag in the other. You set down the box and hurried over to meet her, greeting her with a warm hug. “Here you go,” she said, handing you one of the cups. “Chocolate cherry milkshake. Breakfast of champions.” You took a big gulp, gratefully. It was delicious. “I got you something else, too.” She handed you the gift bag. “Uh, be careful when you open it.”

You handed her your milkshake to hold, delicately opened the bag, and laughed. Inside was a small but unmistakably phallic cactus in a little terra cotta pot with a red Hawkins Rec Department lanyard tied around it in a bow. “To remember us by,” she said. 

“Cute,” you said, but the laughter died on your lips. You couldn’t forget if you wanted to. Ashley sensed the change in mood. She handed your milkshake back.

“How are you holding up?” she asked gently.

You shrugged. “Been fine, I guess,” you said. “Busy with packing up and finding a place to stay out there.” You smiled bravely. “It doesn’t feel real, any of it.” 

She nodded. “Maybe once you get there,” she said. You sipped your milkshakes together in silence for a moment.

“Just ask already,” she said at last, reading your mind. “I know you want to.”

You sighed. “How’s Billy?” you said, not sure you wanted to at all.

“He’s … Billy. Who the hell knows? He acts like he always does.”

You nodded. “Is he . . ?”

“Seeing anyone? Probably.” She cringed when she saw the hurt on your face. “… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered. “This time tomorrow, I’ll be far, far away.”

Ashley reached out to put her hand on your arm. “You’d better not forget about me when you’re far, far away,” she said, and pulled you in for another hug. As she let go, her jacket fell down off her shoulder, and you noticed the small red hickey it was hiding. She caught you looking, and quickly adjusted her jacket, sheepish.

“What was that?” you demanded as her cheeks turned crimson. “Who did that?”

“I’ve kinda been seeing the new clerk at the ice cream place,” she said, without meeting your eyes.

_ “Steve Harrington?”_ you asked, incredulous.

The crimson deepened. “No, the other one,” she mumbled. “Her name’s Robin.”

Your jaw dropped, and her eyes were glued to the ground. _“Ashley!”_ you yelled, finding your voice. You hugged her fiercely. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I didn’t know if …” she started, shakily.

You laughed. “I thought we really had something!” She laughed too, relieved. “You have to tell me everything!”

Before she could get started, another car pulled up. You didn’t have to look to know it was a blue Camaro - the distorted Slayer blaring from the stereo gave it away. “Shit, what’s he doing here?” you complained, looking over your shoulder to see Billy step out of his car and light up a smoke. He leaned against the door, waiting.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Ashley whispered. “I told him you were leaving today.”

“Ashley!”

“I didn’t think he’d actually show up! I’m gonna go though, okay? Let you guys talk?”

You shook your head. “I was talking to you!”

Ashley smiled, and pulled you in for one last hug. “You’re gonna call me the minute you get there,” she said, pulling back. You saw her eyes were welling up, and you felt the sting in the backs of your own. “And I will tell you everything.”

“Okay,” you promised, sniffling. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Drive safe,” she said. She glanced over at Billy, still observing from a distance. “And good luck.”

After you watched her disappear down the street, you wiped your eyes and turned to where Billy was waiting. You took a few deep breaths to steel yourself, and headed over. He stamped out his cigarette, and crossed the street to meet you, stopping an arm’s length away.

“Looking good,” he said, instead of _hello_. You scoffed.

“I’ve been up all night packing,” you said. “I’m sure I look like shit.”

He shook his head. “Not possible,” he said, with a tiny grin and a bat of the eyelashes. There was that charge again, and you hated yourself more than ever for feeling it. You glared.

“You never turn it off, do you?” you asked.

“What are you talking about?” 

“That smarmy, phony charm act of yours.”

“It’s not an act, it’s my personality,” he said pointedly.

“Oh, please.” You crossed your arms, fuming.

“I’m trying to be nice here!” he said defensively.

“It’s a little late for that!” you spat.

“All right,” he said, in surrender. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You sighed. “I’m pretty busy here,” you said. “Is there something you want to say?”

He considered. “You quit the pool,” he said eventually.

“Yeah, can you blame me? You were being an asshole.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “So you _quit?_ You care way too much what other people think, you know that?”

“I promise I won’t make that mistake again,” you shot back.

“This was a bad idea,” he said, starting to turn away.

“Are you going to apologize, or not?” you demanded. He stopped.

“Why? Is that gonna fix it?” 

“I guess not,” you admitted. He nodded, and stayed put. You fell into an uneasy silence. 

“I just wanted to see you again while I could,” he said after a while, kicking his toe into the grass. “All right? That’s the truth.”

The your eyes started to sting again. “Billy …” you started.

“You driving in this thing by yourself?” he interrupted, striding over to where the Oldsmobile was parked in the driveway. “When was the last time it had a tune up?” He poked around the car a little. “Do you even know how to do an oil change?”

“Yes, Dad,” you said. He frowned at you.

“Don’t call me that.”

You laughed. “Would you get over yourself already?” He stood up straight and gave the car a thump of approval. 

“Not a chance,” he said. You smiled wistfully.

The sun was high in the sky now, burning off the morning haze. You unzipped your jacket, and glanced at your watch. “I should get going here,” you said. 

“All right,” he replied. “Try to have some fun while you’re off being a productive member of society, okay?”

“I will,” you agreed. “You try to go to chemistry!”

He grinned. “No promises.”

You stepped up to him, holding out your arms. He rolled his eyes. “I don’t hug,” he said. You grinned at him, and he sighed and stepped into your embrace. You held him until he softened, and a while after. “I’ll see you around,” he said as you parted.

He turned to walk away, stopping himself after a few steps. “I never even asked,” he said. “What was your first choice school, anyway?”

“UCLA,” you answered. “Go Bruins!”

You frowned, confused, as Billy’s whole expression changed. “What?” you asked, warily.

The beginnings of a new smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “California,” he said. The smile widened. “No kidding.” 

*****

_Six months later._

You were chopping carrots and sweating under the studio’s shitty ceiling fan when Billy blew in, dusty and smelling of the sea. He leaned his surfboard in the corner of the tiny entryway. “Those Morgan twins are little assholes,” he grumbled, toeing off his sandals. “I’m gonna cram one of ‘em face first up the other one’s ass.” 

“Sounds difficult,” you said. 

He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “When are you coming to lessons? You said you wanted to learn.”

“You just want someone to help you babysit,” you countered. “I have enough work already.”

“I offer private lessons,” he said, and trailed a handful of kisses against the side of your neck. 

You turned on him, kitchen knife in hand. “You better not be,” you said. 

He raised his hands and took a step back. “Whoa, okay, I’m not, put the weapon down,” he said, laughing. He went over to the fridge and cracked a beer. “I’m serious though, we could go out on the water tonight. Weather’s right, and I know a place.” 

“Is it legal?,” you asked, dumping the carrots into the big bowl and getting started on the cucumbers. 

“If nobody finds out,” he replied. He sat at the little table. “Bathing suits optional,” he teased.

“Sold.”

He took a long drink out of his beer can, while you chopped and watched with growing impatience out of the corner of your eye. His hand was resting an inch away from today’s mail pile, but he wasn’t looking at it. He was looking at you.

“What’s that you’re making?” he asked, glancing dubiously at your growing mound of salad.

“Dinner,” you replied, wiping your forehead with the back of your wrist. “It’s way too hot to turn on the oven.”

He shrugged and took another drink. “Doesn’t bother me.” 

It hadn’t done him any harm at all, in fact. Everything about him was either bronzed or bleached, and he smiled all the time. It was worth suffering a few bad hair days and sweat stains in the middle of winter. 

Your patience at an end, you cleared your throat and asked, as casually as you could, “Hey have you checked the mail today?”

_“Should_ I check the mail?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. You can if you want.”

“Maybe later then,” he said, smirking, and finished the rest of his can. 

“Open it now, please,” you said, dropping the knife and hurrying over. You picked up the _Adult Education Centre_ envelope from beneath the junk mail you’d artfully piled over it when it arrived this morning and held it out to him. “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

He took the envelope and turned it over in his hands, stalling while you practically vibrated with anticipation. “Open it!” you shouted.

He tore open the edge of the envelope, and unhurriedly pulled out the stiff sheet of paper folded inside. He unfolded it and scanned a few lines, his expression unchanging.

“Well?” you demanded.

“Well what?” he said, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Billy!” you yelled, and tried to snatch the letter out of his hand. He was quicker. He stood and held it up high, well out of your reach. “I just want to know if you passed,” you pouted. 

“My question for you is,” he said, ignoring your hops for the letter, “did you actually think there was a chance that I wouldn’t?” 

He let you take it. _Mr. William Hargrove, we are pleased to inform you that you have passed the General Education Development test._ You squealed and jumped into his arms for a hug. He acted put-upon, but hugged you back. “Congratulations,” you murmured into his shoulder. “I’m proud of you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, but he was smiling.

He fished his car keys out of his pocket. “This calls for a celebration,” he said. “I’m going for burgers.”

“I just finished making food,” you complained.

He wrinkled his sun-freckled nose. “Baby, that’s not food. That’s what food eats.” You threw a cherry tomato, and he batted it out of the air. “You don’t want to take me in a food fight,” he said. You threw another, this one bouncing off his temple. “I’m warning you,” he said. The third tomato landed right in his hair. He charged.

He swept you up by the waist, and you shrieked. “This is what I think of your salad,” he said, sweeping the bowl aside, sending it flying, and setting you down on the countertop. Before you could protest, he pressed in between your thighs and kissed you, hard and deep. He ran his fingers up under your shirt, and ground his hips so you could feel his erection. You moaned into his mouth. He made a valid point. 

After, the two of you sat sprawled on the floor, surveying the damage and passing a cigarette between you. The cool linoleum was nice against your naked skin, but the lettuce and tomato strewn everywhere was going to be a problem. “This is a mess,” you observed.

“Nah,” he said, “this is heaven.” He stood and picked up his shorts with his toes. He climbed into them. “But I’m going for burgers.” 

You nodded, all out of fight and not yet willing to move. He threw on his shirt and kissed the top of your head. “Love you,” he said quickly.

“Gross,” you replied, making a face.

He threw you a look. “I’ll get you the one with all the green shit on it,” he said, stepping back into his sandals. “And get dressed, after we eat we’re going surfing.”

He opened the door and squinted against a bar of low, golden evening sun. You smiled. “Love you, too,” you said. 

You shouted after him as he stepped out. “And bring ice cream!”

_The End_

September 6, 2019


End file.
